


we'll be back soon

by cant



Category: None - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-17
Updated: 2020-10-17
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:54:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27054505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cant/pseuds/cant
Summary: Miller and Vince go out for supplies, and Miller worries about his dumb adopted daughter, but he'd never show it
Kudos: 1





	we'll be back soon

“We’re going out,” Vince said, crouching down in front of October. She frowned.  
“Why? It’s not safe.”  
Vince smiled, brushing her choppy, messy hair back from her eyes. “Yeah, but we can handle ourselves.”  
“Take me with you,” she demanded, little hands balling into fists. “I can shoot.”  
“I know,” Vince said, his smile sad now, “but it’s just a short trip. We’ll be back before you can miss us.”  
October stared into his eyes with that intense glare, the one that read right into his soul to see whether or not he was lying. “Okay,” she said eventually. “But come back soon.”  
From the hallway, Miller watched with folded arms. October really was so small, too young, and the way Vince talked to her made his heart hurt, and he fucking hated it. Through the old farmhouse doors, he could only see Vince’s hands and October’s intense gaze as he moved his hands down to her fists and loosened them so gently it was like magic, coming back up to adjust her dog-eared green jacket. Part of him, a very distant, repressed part, wished he could do that. 

Miller tiredly checked hygiene off the crumpled list, leaning on the dashboard. Vince turned the beaten up truck in to an empty alley where the rain wasn’t so aggressive, sheltered by huge crumbling buildings.  
“One of us should have stayed with her,” he said, worried, stopping the engine.  
Miller nodded, staring out into the alley, expression unreadable.  
Vince watched him carefully. “You okay?”  
That snapped him out of it. Miller took a deep breath, looking back at the list. “Ammo,” he said, voice quiet, holding it out.  
Vince didn’t take it. “Seriously.”  
For a long moment, Miller just watched the rain tap at the windscreen, deceptively calm. In his lap, he crumpled the list, tighter and tighter until his fist was shaking. His jaw was tense, like he was holding something in, refusing to speak aloud how he felt just in case he lost control – Vince knew that look well by now.  
He put his hand over Miller’s shaking fist, gentle and patient. Miller’s head dropped. Slowly he opened his fist and let their fingers slide together, the list falling to the footwell. A strained, shaky sigh was all Vince needed to hear before he was pulling Miller into a hug, holding on tight in the awkward position – Miller’s hand came up to hold his arm, resisting half-heartedly but eventually just giving up.  
“You gotta tell me what’s wrong,” Vince murmured into messy hair, not expecting an answer right away. He could wait.  
For a long while, they stayed, holding and breathing, and the rain beat down on the roof harder and harder.  
Eventually, after an eternity, Miller took a shaking breath. Vince pressed a gentle kiss to his shoulder; anything he could do to let Miller know he was listening.  
“You make a really good dad,” came the weak reply.  
The rain didn’t let up. Outside, a roll of thunder rumbled over their heads.  
“What do you mean?”  
Miller seemed to have exhausted himself with the effort of trying to get even those few words out. “I mean you’re- just- I-” He sighed.  
Vince sat back, but he wasn’t prepared to see Miller’s eyes wet with tears – he’d never seen the man cry, not once, not even from pain or loss or anything. Just the sight of it was enough to make his heart crack in his chest. “Hey, man, listen,” he said softly, unsure of what to do. He shuffled as close as he could and ran one thumb under Miller’s eye, refusing to let him pull away. “She loves you too. She doesn’t show it ‘cause you’re both stubborn as hell. She does, though, I promise you.”  
“Why should she?” Miller snapped, trying to inject some anger into his voice and failing. “I don’t know how to- I don’t know how to do what you do. When you hold her hands and fuckin’ pinky promise like you’re both five years old, and you tell her she’s pretty, and she _smiles?_ I barely even know how to love _you,_ and she’s too young to-” He cut himself off again, pulling away from Vince’s hands, rubbing his tears away in frustration. “You’re right. We shouldn’t have left her alone.”  
“Wait up, we came out here with a mission,” Vince said, unable to stop himself smiling. “Let’s go, okay?”  
Miller looked up, unsure – that look quickly turned irritated when he saw the smile. Vince didn’t even try to block to arm punch coming his way. “What are you fucking grinning for? Stop it, you fucking-”  
Vince only smiled wider, his heart light now. Not broken, just surprised. “Because,” he laughed, hitting away another incoming punch, “I thought it was something serious! You really think you’re not a good dad? Come on.”  
Miller’s glare did not subside. “I pour my fucking heart out to you one time, and-”  
“Dude, please, she thinks the world of you,” Vince grinned, grabbing Miller’s hand before he could inflict any more damage, unable to stop the pride bursting from his chest and overflowing. “She thinks you’re just a stubborn asshole, which you are, and you think the same of her, and she is. You just need to find your own ways of being friends. Okay? God.”  
The rage seemed to fade. “She really doesn’t hate me?”  
“No! Are you kidding?” 

“This country never ceases to amaze me,” Miller said, glancing down from the guns and ammo section of the shop to the boarded up windows, outside which a few shuffling dead bodies lurched around. Nothing too serious yet. Still, his grip tightened on his pistol. “You can buy guns and fucking school supplies in the same place? Well, I s’pose they’re the same thing, but-”  
“Would you shut the fuck up,” Vince sighed, stuffing a few more rounds into the bag. “Can’t believe this place hasn’t been raided yet. Can you get another bag?”  
No reply. Vince turned around, expecting the worst, but seeing only Miller standing stock-still, staring at the clothes rack a little closer to the entrance. A zombie slowed to a stop outside and turned almost towards them, but she seemed to be looking past them.  
“We’re okay,” Vince said, turning back to his work, pulling a larger long gun off the rack. “Hey, this one’s for you. Mill?”  
Somewhere in the store, a huge pane of glass shattered, and the groaning, heaving noise outside got louder. Vince acted fast, smashing the glass counter at the front with the butt of the rifle and sliding as much equipment as he could into the bag, before zipping it and heaving it onto his back.  
Fortunately, that seemed to wake Miller up.  
“Come on, let’s go,” Vince called out, taking steps backwards to run outside, but Miller, the reckless idiot, ran _forwards,_ towards the zombie hoards. “Hey, what are you doing?”  
“Just go,” Miller yelled, vaulting over a jewellery counter and towards the clothing rack, _towards_ the growing crowd of the writhing dead.  
Vince grit his teeth and knew he had to trust that everything would work out. As usual, it was out of his hands, and in the control of some careless fool, so he could only turn and run, heart pounding, throwing the bag into the back of the truck and shoving the keys into the ignition, ready to go.  
Deafening silence. The rain hammered hard onto the roof, and yet Vince heard only static as he waited, knuckles white on the wheel and the key.  
A slam on the passenger door almost made him faint in shock, but when Miller opened the door and jumped in in record time he could only start the engine and throw it into reverse.  
“You fucking scared me,” he snapped, the moment they were moving.  
“Just drive.” 

The farmhouse was warm when they got in, strangely, but the smell of cooking soon calmed down the both of them. The drive had been spent in strangely icy silence, Vince’s thoughts reeling, and Miller’s own a hazy fog of regret.  
“We’re back,” Vince called, placing the ammo bag by the other emergency supplies, making a mental note to check it over later. Miller’s hand tightened on his own bag strap. Vince hadn't questioned it.  
October leaned around the door and looked them both over, spatula in hand. “You both look like shit.”  
“Thanks,” Vince said, seeming to soften up, walking into the kitchen, leaving Miller to stand in the hallway, soaking wet. 

It took a long while before Miller was ready to talk. Vince and October quietly put dinner together, Vince putting out three plates and October carefully arranging her latest masterpiece of leftovers.  
“Is he okay?” she whispered, placing out slightly too old potatoes.  
Vince shook his head. “I don’t know,” he said. “Maybe you should talk to him.”  
October’s hand slowed. “He doesn’t want to talk to me.”  
Vince sighed, defeated, and sat at the table. “He does, I promise you.”  
“How do you know?” she asked, incredulous. “He thinks I’m a stupid kid.”  
“You’re not,” Vince said, pushing around a wobbly plate absently. “He doesn’t think that.”  
Just as October opened her mouth to speak, Miller came in, still soggy, but looking strangely pale. He opened his bag and, to both of the others’ surprise, pulled out a green jacket identical to October’s own.  
Miller stared at the floor, but Vince and October could only stare at the jacket in his hand.  
October was the bravest. “That’s… For me?”  
Miller nodded, looking up at her stubbornly. “Your old one looks like shit. This one has less blood on it, for starters.”  
Faintly wary, but mostly stunned, October put down her pan and shrugged off her jacket, which was practically falling apart on her shoulders, and took the new one from Miller’s hand. It fit perfectly.  
“Uh, thanks,” she mumbled, small fists squeezing the stronger, cleaner fabric. “Thanks.”  
Miller stared her down. “Don’t mention it. Ever.”  
October nodded curtly and life went on. 

At dinner, sitting around the fire, October still in her jacket and Vince and the newly-dried Miller under a tattered blanket, Miller couldn’t help but notice that he was being stared at.  
“What’re you looking at,” he mumbled, glaring at his food.  
Vince couldn’t stop smiling. The pride he’d felt earlier was rushing over, overflowing and warm and golden. “Nothing. You, kinda. Nothing.”  
“Fuck off.”  
Vince kissed Miller on the cheek, putting down his fork for a moment to watch the fire play on his boyfriend’s skin, and to press a gentle kiss to his lips. “I’m proud of you.”  
Over his shoulder, October and Miller rolled their eyes at each other. Both hid a smile.


End file.
